


A Snatch of Conversation

by airamcg



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Pre-Volume 3, originally written in 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airamcg/pseuds/airamcg
Summary: "You like the pain, don't you?" Blake asked.She was peering at me over the book she held to her face.Shrugging, I answered. "It's not about liking or not liking it..."





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally written in 18 December 2014, but i forgot to post it back then and only found it again just now.

"You like the pain, don't you?"

I looked up from the tools and the grease on my hands.

Blake was peering at me over the open book she held to her face. Apparently, the question had caught her by surprise as well, since she hadn't marked down the page where she stopped reading. That, or she already knew my answer and thought it wasn't worth putting her book away for.

Shrugging, I twirled the screwdriver between my fingers before answering.

"It's not about liking or not liking it..."

"You let your battles draw longer than necessary. You like toying with your food, so to speak."

"I am so not getting this kind of lecture from you, of all people." I dropped the screwdriver and wiped my hands on my overalls. The grease on my fingers didn't lessen one bit.

"It's just that you always get yourself hit..."

"It's not intentional, y'know. It's just the way I fight: sometimes I get hit. Unlike _you_."

She put down her book at that, her eyes intent on her hands clenched over her lap.

I immediately felt bad for putting her on the spot.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No, you're right. All I do is run away."

"That's not what I was--"

"But it's true!" she spat, glaring at me through unshed tears. "I'm not brave or headstrong like you. I run and hide and stab from behind. It's cowardly."

"But that's just the way you fight."

"It's dishonorable."

"No." I sit beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, grease stains be damned. "In a real battle, all that matters is winning to survive. By all means, it's not dishonorable to want that."

That seemed to assuage her a little. She puffed out a wet chuckle. "You're just making up bullshit."

"Hey, whatever gets me into your pants." I laughed.

She responded with a pillow to my face.

"You should clean up," she said. "I refuse to let you up top smelling like that."

I grinned as I headed for the baths.

"Whatever you say, partner."

 

 

 


End file.
